


Villainous Deeds

by VillainousQueer



Category: Original Work, superheroes - Fandom
Genre: Anal Gaping, Anal Probing, Bladder Control, Cervix Fucking, Corruption, Enemas, Forced Drinking, Medical Kink, Non-binary character, Omorashi, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Vaginal Gaping, clit suction, deep enemas, enema torture, feeding tube, i think this counts as medical kink?, stomach inflation, through and through sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 06:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21032000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VillainousQueer/pseuds/VillainousQueer
Summary: She's been captured.





	Villainous Deeds

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a way for me to cope with having to drink a lot of cranberry juice. 'When the chore is awful, fetishise it' and i live by that

The villain lifted her chin, and put a soft tube into her mouth, that filled it comfortably, and was coated with some kind of lubricant that tasted of nothing but oil and saccharin. It wasn’t a bad taste, and she was grateful for the slip of it as they told her to swallow and eased it down her throat. She felt every inch, and her pussy was already flushing with arousal at the feeling of being so full.

‘Now,’ they said, smiling with that mischief-curl mouth, made all the more by how darkly the lips were stained from bad magic. ‘We need to flush you out, so we’ll be filling you up with cranberry juice, until you lose control of your bladder.’

She hated the stuff; but, she reasoned, she wouldn’t have to taste any of it. She felt the tube jerk a little as the pump was turned on, and she felt the liquid warm the material of the feeding tube, warm her throat, her belly, and she was trapped as she felt the liquid start to push outward on her belly, stretching it, filling it full and fuller, until she was moaning. She couldn’t watch, but she felt it, and somehow her skin wasn’t bursting at the seams, somehow her belly just grew with it, and she soon felt her bladder starting to make itself known, and she felt her captor nudging her thighs farther apart, until they weren’t touching, until they could reach between her legs.

‘Oh, my, what have we _here_?’ Their fingertips found her clit, which had always been rather big, and sensitive, to the point where she had never wanted any toys, able to get herself off by simply rubbing it, pulling at the hood. The hood had gotten quite stretched from all her tugging, over the years. Not that anybody knew that, about her; why would she tell them? Now, however, the villain was closing elegant, black-gloved fingertips around it, and humming in a _very_ suggestive lilt, even as pleasure spun outward from her clit, made her moan. A soft, silken chuckle at her reaction. ‘I see corrupting you shall be much, much easier than I thought… why, you’re already _dripping_.’

She whimpered, knowing it was true, _hating_ that they’d found out about this. Corruption! Like the poor prisoners locked in the machines, their every orifice stuffed full and their bodies swollen from the villain’s horrible ministrations! They had been menacing the city for some time, and had kidnapped more people than the hero had originally thought.

Just now, however, that thought process was interrupted, as her captor’s machine finally did as promised—her bladder lost control, and she felt the humiliation off-set by the way the villain was toying with her clit—pulling, rubbing between their fingers, tugging the hood—and yet she couldn’t come, not until she was done—and the machine was making sure her bladder _wouldn’t_ be done.

The villain watched as the stream from the hero’s bladder went clear, watched as the hero realised that she was just a fountain, a little filtration system, that the stream from her bladder wouldn’t stop, and yet her bladder wouldn’t get any relief. It was their favourite first torture.

-

The hero didn’t know how long she was trapped there, her belly finally staying one size, tight and full and, though she couldn’t feel or know, being trained into constantly being open at both ends, directly funnelling the new fluid into her guts, which, thanks to an addition to the juice being pumped into her, were slowly dilating, swelling bigger, moving faster, her entire body growing and changing to accommodate this new way of life. Soon enough, it would have dehydrated her to stop the constant high-pressure stream, and the villain slowly changed the formula, until it slowly got her body used to liquids that could be absorbed directly—leaving her lower intestine empty, ready to be given the biggest, most intense abuse it would ever suffer.

The villain started off with attaching her clit to a milking cylinder, having to take some time to perfectly fit one to her unique size. It sucked and then released, over and over, slowly starting to enlarge her clit, make it more sensitive. She moaned around her gag, already somewhat glazed over from the constant humiliation, from her brain just having to cope with being helpless to stop her bladder emptying. Likely by now, her ability to control it was waning, and she’d never be fully toilet trained again.

Just exactly what the villain wanted. Helplessness was so fun to train into people. Now, they’d train her little arse to be helpless, too.

Her anus was twitching at every touch from the villain’s gloved fingertips, trying to stay closed, to resist. But the villain had corrupted dozens of hapless victims before now, as their gallery of swollen bellies and tits, genitalia enlarged and ever stimulated, eyes glazed over, never to be able to think again, would attest. Some patient massage, combined with the frustration that had built up (after all, one couldn’t come if one was micturating), and her anus quickly relaxed, the pleasure easily persuading her body to allow the villain to do whatever they wanted, as long as the pleasure didn’t stop. Sliding in a warm, soft, slippery nozzle certainly didn’t do that, and the villain slowly set it to expanding both inside her rectum, and outside, her anus held at a good inch diameter. Enough to feel like something, but not enough to strain.

And then, the bisacodyl solution, very concentrated for the first run. She started to scream, as the solution started to make her feel the panic-inducing urgency. The villain chuckled, and turned up the pressure, enjoying how the scream got louder, and the struggling more frantic.

‘You’ll never get free, you may as well try and enjoy it. I’m going to clean you out, and this is only the first one. There’s _lots_ more to come, my dear….’

After two quarts had gone in, they stopped the flow. ‘A pitiful amount, really,’ they said, to the noising, and just made the girl sit for a while with it, the urgency making her whimper and whine through the gag the feeding tube made. At the end of what was surely the longest ten minutes of her life, the villain deflated the nozzle, pulling it out with a flourish and watching as her body tried in vain to hold it in.

Cleaning up, and using a high-pressure hose just to torture her, the villain inserted the long, flexible nozzle, threading it in, and in, and making sure it went quite deep inside, before starting the flow, slower and just above body temperature. ‘And now,’ they said, to their sobbing captive, ‘the _deep_ cleaning begins.’

The sobs got harder, and the villain grinned, watching as the new solution filled, and filled, an entire gallon forced into those virgin guts, uncomfortably warm and humiliatingly full.

‘That’s one,’ they said, and started the next one.

‘Two.’

‘Three.’

‘Ahhhhh, all clean, good,’ they purred, seeing the clear water flowing out of their new pets tormented ass. ‘Good _girl_, that’s right. Now,’ they said, and slid in the spreader prongs, programming the machine to stretch her wider, and wider, until, at the end of an hour, her ass was held open to its limit. ‘Do you feel exposed, my dear? _Good_. I’m going to do even _more_ to your insides now—it’s so boring, to fuck merely your entrance, when I could fuck something much deeper….’

They retrieved a warmed and lubricated dildo of soft silicone, and slid it into the far entrance to her rectum, bypassing her anus entirely. Gently, slowly, they slid it deeper, and deeper, until it was sheathed to the hilt inside her, and then pulled it out, just as slowly. They began to set a slow, steady rhythm, attaching the dildo to a fucking machine.

‘Theeere, my dear, do you feel it, invading your _deepest_ spaces? Well, we’re just getting started—we haven’t even _touched_ your vagina yet! But patience, my dear, patience… we’ll get you used to this, until you can’t help liking it.’

The fucking was endless, and her rectum was helplessly stretched by the end of a day, her clitoris enlarging magnificently—not that it would ever be free of the cylinder, not now. Her pussy was _dripping, _even considering the constant and steady stream from her bladder—and a mere fingertip on the entrance to her urethra stopped the stream, started it backing up into her bladder, starting to inflate it. She squeaked, exhausted by now but unable to sleep, as she felt her bladder start to first fill, then overfill, then distend, pushing up and out until it was an oblong bulge in her lower belly, and the villain slid a soft, flexible sound gently inside her, the bulbous tip quite easily breaching her bladder’s entrance and remaining there.

Now, the dripping of her pussy was even more apparent, so swollen and aroused without cease or relief that it must have ached—the villain slid broad, flat spreaders inside, and they pulled her open much faster than they had her anus, exposing her cervix, which was quite flush and dilated, by now—but not dilated enough.

The villain filled the entrance to her womb with a warmed probe of glass, and fucked her with it, savouring her whimpers, as she could barely feel it, so preoccupied with the swelling of her bladder, the urgency, the feeling she would pop at any minute….

Leaving the pussy stretched wide, the cervix full of the glass probe, the villain finally came over to where she could see them again, smiling. ‘Well, well, how do you feel? Full, I imagine? Do you want the plug taken out, so you can empty that poor bladder?’ They patted it, only to make her scream, savouring the blush of shame and humiliation, even as she couldn’t help the glazed dilation of her pupils. ‘Your pussy is _dripping_, and I imagine your clit has already doubled in size—but you’ll never come if I unplug your bladder, precious,’ they said, pursing their black-painted lips. ‘Don’t you want to come?’ They asked, teasing oh-so-gently at her nipples, her tits gently swaying back and forth with her struggles.

She was already shaking her head, but putting the thought in her mind made her come, hard, screaming as much in horror at what was arousing her as relief at the crest of pleasure.

‘_Good_ girl,’ they said, not ceasing. ‘Feel how spread open and helpless you are, how _plugged up_, all that juice pumping into you, and nothing coming out. Poor _baby_,’ they cooed, with sadistic pity, still gently toying with her nipples.


End file.
